


time makes you bolder

by boatstoesta



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, F/F, Gay Pride, Light Angst, Pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24722089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boatstoesta/pseuds/boatstoesta
Summary: Beca comes out to Chloe, and she doesn’t get the reaction she expected. Happy Pride <3
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 43
Kudos: 310





	time makes you bolder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bechloehuh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bechloehuh/gifts), [tmylm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/gifts).



> gifted to cole because the title i chose is also apparently his blog title <3 this is his now lmao

Beca wakes with a start at the feeling of a hand sliding up her stomach. She blinks her eyes open to see Chloe lying on her side, beaming at her with her usual snowy-blue gaze. 

“Wakey wakey,” Chloe whispers, her voice filled with much more excitement than the early hour calls for. “Today’s a big day.”

Beca blinks again, not really able to register her friend’s words. Her eyes slide down to where Chloe’s hand rests under her shirt, on her waist. 

Most days she can’t decide if she’s lucky to have such an affectionate roommate or if it’s a goddamn curse. Today she’s leaning heavily toward the latter.

“You didn’t forget, did you?” Chloe asks softly.

Chloe’s scratchy morning voice is nearly as bad as the touching. Beca clears her throat and pushes herself to a seated position in their tiny pull-out couch to put some distance between herself and Chloe’s curious gaze.

“Of course I didn’t forget.” Beca rolls her neck back and stretches her shoulders. “It’s been ridiculously obvious how excited you are to go to The Met for the first time.”

Chloe’s smile nearly doubles in size. “I really am.” She leans forward and kisses Beca on the cheek sweetly. “I knew you would remember.”

As Chloe climbs off the bed and walks to their closet, Beca mentally groans. A curse. It’s definitely a curse.

***

The Met is admittedly much larger than Beca ever realized. The walkways are packed with tourists, which in its own way is comforting. It lends to a feeling of anonymity—like Beca and Chloe can float through the museum completely unnoticed.

It’s Beca’s first time at The Met, too. The truth is that Chloe is the only reason she’s there at all. If she hadn’t promised Chloe she would take her, she wouldn’t have thought twice about this place.

Another truth: Beca will do anything Chloe asks of her on any given day. Of course, she’ll sometimes roll her eyes at her friend or put up a little protest for show, but the word ‘no’ doesn’t exist in the same space as Chloe. It never really has.

When they reach the photography section of the museum, she doesn’t say a word when Chloe grabs her hand. She allows it, just like she allows everything else Chloe does. The hand on her waist in the mornings, the cheek kisses, the middle-of-the-night cuddling that Beca pretends to sleep through.

It isn’t an easy truth to live. Not once she finally admitted to herself that she’s in love with her best friend. Those small moments, they can make a day so torturous. One small touch or moment can turn into something that will keep her up all night so easily.

Sometimes she can picture the reality of it so clearly, the life they would live if things were different. She imagines it despite knowing it’ll never happen—it’s own special brand of torture. Yet when she loses herself in a moment, she still sees little kisses over coffee, the kind you give like a habit without even thinking about it. She sees them showering together, holding each other under the stream of water just wasting away time; she sees them slow dancing in the kitchen while cooking dinner to a song that feels so right. God, it makes Beca cringe. She hates that Chloe has turned her so soft. Never once in her life did she think about those things until Chloe came along. 

But things aren’t different. Chloe is straight, and there’s nothing Beca can do that could possibly change that. So she hides her heated cheeks, she limits her lingering gaze. She takes Chloe to the Met. She holds her hand without ever saying a word. It’s better than nothing, right? It makes Chloe happy. Right?

“Amy’s going to be mad she missed this.”

Beca laughs. Amy has been gone for days with some fling, apparently holed up in some snowy cabin upstate. “Please, I’m sure she’s having the time of her life with that guy. She’s probably four margaritas deep and it isn’t even lunch.”

They walk slowly, pausing over a few interesting photos, making the occasional comment. 

There’s only one piece that really makes them stop. At least, Chloe stops. Beca wants nothing more than to move on as quickly as possible. Her stomach is turning in knots as they stand before a print called “Lesbian Couple at the Monocle.” 

Just like that, the ease of their energy is gone and her anxiety is soaring.

Beca can’t help but feel like this is the hundredth sign that she needs to sack up and tell Chloe the truth about herself. The truth about her sexuality, at least.

Beca has never said it out loud to anyone, the fact that she likes girls. She isn’t sure she should start now. In fact, she isn’t even sure what she would say to them if she did. She doesn’t have some perfect word that sums up who she is—she just knows deep in her gut that she’s _something._ But what good does that do for the rest of the world, who will demand a label to slap on her and a box to shove her in?

The Bellas would all accept her with open arms, she knows that much. And she knows Chloe would be the very first to stick up for her in any given situation. But if Chloe knows about her sexuality, will it change the way she sees Beca? Will it change the way she touches her, the ease of comfort between them? They share a bed, after all. Will she even want to after she knows?

Beca is considering dropping the bomb when Chloe speaks. “At first I thought it was a picture of a man and a woman,” Chloe murmurs, “but it’s not. Look at it.”

She lets her eyes wander up to the photo she’s avoided and swallows the lump in her throat. The woman in the photo wears a dark suit and has short, sleek hair, her arm around a smaller woman in a beautiful dress, makeup done in the style of the period. Finally, Beca says, “At first glance, maybe.”

“It’s just… such an old picture. So much has changed since.”

Beca just wants to run as far as she possibly can, yet Chloe’s deep reservoir of contemplation turns her feet to lead. She’s so planted she couldn’t move if she dared. “What do you mean?” 

She’s gripping Chloe’s hand so tightly now that she’s certain it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

“I mean, for them to be like this back then… they had to have been so brave. It’s hard now, and this is arguably the most accepting the world has ever been of the LGBT community. It says this was taken in 1932. I just… I can’t imagine the bravery that took.” 

Beca glances over to Chloe. It’s meant to be brief, but Chloe is gazing at the art with such focus that it transfixes her. There’s an ocean of bleary emotion behind Chloe’s eyes. Beca can’t move—she can only stand there, trapped by the beauty. 

It makes her secrets so painful to keep. Seeing Chloe now, Beca is overwhelmed by the feeling that she doesn’t want to keep anything from her anymore. If there’s one person in this world that’s going to know all of her—every corner, every gritty, painful part—she wants it to be Chloe, whatever that looks like.

“Do you think they were happy?” Beca asks quietly.

Chloe takes a moment to consider it, staring at the print pensively. “Yeah, I do. They look happy,” she finally concedes. Chloe sighs. “It does make me wonder about stereotypes, though. The way they play into how we dress and who we become. Who we love.”

It hits Beca that it’s now or never. She drops Chloe’s hand. Deciding to ride the wave of stereotypes, she tries to steady herself. “So if I told you I was gay,” Beca says slowly, her nerves making her draw out every syllable, “it wouldn’t be all that surprising?”

Chloe glances at her for a moment, giving her a strange, steady look. “I mean, yeah, it would be. But not because of stereotypes or whatever.”

“Then... why?”

Chloe shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess… because of how long I’ve known you. It wouldn’t have anything to do with how you dress or act or talk.”

Beca’s staring at her now, waiting for her to get the hint, hoping she’s been blatant enough that she won’t have to say more. Chloe looks at Beca in utter oblivion for a second. Her eyebrows knit together, and then as all the dots connect, her eyes widen in understanding. 

“Wait… are you saying that you’re—?” Chloe’s voice drops off in shock.

“Yeah,” Beca says quietly. “I’m…” Her eyes drop to the floor. Beca shrugs, suddenly wishing she hadn’t chosen such a public place to have this conversation—not that this was even remotely planned. “Yeah,” she mutters again. 

There’s a deep, unyielding silence. She can’t meet Chloe’s gaze again. Suddenly she just wants to curl up into a ball and die right there in the middle of the museum.

Chloe is still really quiet. She nods slowly, finally acknowledging what Beca said, and Beca feels her stomach drop through the floor. She isn’t sure what she expected, but it had been more than just a nod. 

They walk through the museum not really talking, not exactly stopping to look at the other artwork either. There’s at least a foot of space between them at all times, and Chloe doesn’t reach for Beca’s hand again. 

Her chest deflates as she feels herself already regretting her rash decision to come out. All that had built up inside her turns to dejection. She looks away, squinting at the sunlit snow through the windows. 

When they get back to the apartment, Chloe doesn’t take her coat off. “I’m going to go for a walk,” Chloe murmurs, fidgeting with the keys in her hand. “I’ll be back, okay?”

Beca hangs her jacket up and glances back to her friend. They’d just spent the entire morning walking and it’s snowing hard, but Beca isn’t going to say that. Not when Chloe won’t even look her in the eye. “‘Kay,” Beca mutters, yanking at the laces of her boots a little too roughly.

The door shuts and Beca’s shoulders immediately drop. She puts her hands in her face and stands there with one boot on, fighting the urge to cry.

***

Hours have passed, and Chloe still isn’t back from her walk. Beca was worried after the first hour—now she’s outright panicked.

She’s laying in the middle of their bed, her arms and legs stretched out in all directions as she stares at the ceiling. She knows she’s crazy. She knows friends aren’t supposed to want each other the way she wants Chloe. She isn’t supposed to want to reach across their tiny shared bed and drag Chloe’s hand to her empty skin, to kiss her in the dark where her eyes wouldn’t have to see the questions in Chloe’s.

After all this time, Beca still can’t help but think of Chloe as the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Chloe doesn’t know or care that she is unforgettable—her confidence goes deeper than that of a woman who likes what she sees in the mirror. Chloe values the small kindnesses in life, the meaning of a soft smile. She cares about what she can do and pushes herself every day to be better than she was the day before. 

It only makes the sick feeling in her stomach worse. She didn’t even tell Chloe those things—all the ways in which Chloe so irrevocably has her heart. At the museum she had no intention of revealing her feelings to Chloe at all. Hell, she doubts she ever will now. 

And yet just knowing Beca likes girls was enough to put her off so badly she can’t even be in the apartment alone with her.

Beca swears on her life, her heart is on the verge of exploding at the mere thought of their friendship never being the same. She gets up off the bed and walks to the kitchen with no real purpose, staring at her phone as she paces, considering calling Chloe to make sure she hasn’t been mugged or worse. 

It’s crushing, and she’s so close to not having much of herself left to be crushed.

The door to their tiny apartment slams shut. Chloe slides her jackets down her arms, the movement broken and disjointed.

At the sight of her friend, Beca balls up the sensation burning in her esophagus and wills herself to keep it together. “Are you drunk?” 

Chloe doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe; she doesn’t even twitch. Eventually she just shakes her head, not looking at Beca in the eye. “No, I’m really not.”

“Okay, well, you smell like cheap rum.”

“Three drinks does not equal drunk, Beca,” Chloe exhales, shaking her coat off. Snowflakes dust her hair, already melting into glistening droplets against a backdrop of ginger.

Beca opens her mouth twice to speak, but she’s suddenly overcome with frustration. No text? No, _I just need time to process the new gayness of my best friend, but I’ll be home tonight_? No, _hey just wanted to let you know I’m not dead in some sketchy alleyway!_

“Please, you’re the biggest lightweight I know,” Beca mutters, not even bothering to hide her annoyance. 

“Beca, would you just—” Chloe balls her fists up and presses them to her forehead. 

A painfully rejected part of Beca likes the idea that she’s frustrating Chloe, too, after the day she’s had. Chloe still hasn’t met Beca’s eyes. It pokes and prods at that rejection until the words are spilling out of her mouth without notice.

“You know what, I wasn’t going to get mad about this. You disappearing or whatever the hell that was. I really wasn’t,” Beca says, her throat tight with emotion. “But God, Chloe, you were supposed to be the one person I didn't have to worry about telling. I’m sorry if it freaks you out or if you don’t want to share a bed with me anymore, but you don’t have to stop looking at me altogether either.”

Chloe’s hands are on the kitchen counter. She’s chewing on her lip, and it’s driving Beca so absolutely crazy that she doesn’t know what Chloe is thinking.

More than anything else, Beca is just… scared. Scared of losing her friend. The burgeoning feelings in her chest—she can set those aside. The pain of it thus far has been almost unbearable, but she’s done it. 

But the friendship? Beca can never set that aside. She can’t lose all of Chloe. And the way Chloe won’t look at her right now… she can’t help but think it feels like the first step in a loss.

“I get it,” Beca mutters. “The idea of me liking girls freaks you out. But—”

A look overtakes Chloe's face, one that Beca knows she has never seen before. It's a desperate mix of fear and determination that makes Beca stop mid-sentence. 

“You want to know what I was doing at the bar for that long? You _really_ want to know?” Chloe says with a humorless chuckle. She walks to the edge of their sofa bed, her hands coming to her face as she sits down. “I was thinking about how much time I wasted.”

Beca’s lips part slightly, her brain not comprehending what Chloe is saying. “Chlo… what do you—?”

Suddenly Beca can feel Chloe looking at her from across the room. “Bec, will you come here?” Chloe asks softly.

The confident, flesh and blood woman in her thinks she sees yearning in Chloe’s eyes, but the self-conscious part of her thinks that it’s ridiculous. Chloe can’t want her. 

It takes everything Beca has to walk over to where she’s sitting without shaking like a leaf. As she draws nearer, Chloe holds both her hands out. Beca realizes she’s reaching for her hands, and she lets Chloe take them.

Her warm grip is gentle as she brings Beca’s left hand to her lips, kissing her palm with closed eyes. For a moment, Beca doesn’t know what to do. She has lost all ability to think. Chloe’s lips are so soft and so warm and the shock of what’s happening is almost too much. 

Eyes still closed, Chloe drags both of Beca’s hands to the back of her neck. Her own hands cover Beca’s, just holding them there. A drawn-out breath leaves her lips, and it reminds Beca to breathe, too.

She thinks she knows why Chloe has been gone for so long today. She thinks she understands exactly why her eyes lingered on that piece of art as long as her own did. In the thick silence, she knows why Chloe put her hands on her.

Beca surprises herself when she chokes out, “Look at me.”

There’s hesitation. Chloe’s hands tighten around hers for a brief moment before she opens her eyes and lifts her gaze to Beca’s. 

Chloe swallows hard. All Beca can do is stare back. “Just say it,” Beca begs desperately. 

She needs to hear it. She needs to hear it from Chloe. She has to do more than just _know_ it.

Chloe’s lips tremble. “Don’t... don’t be like this with anyone else,” she starts, her voice just a whisper. “Please.” 

What’s left of the curtain drops. It has no purpose now, and there’s nothing between them but what she’s asked for—the truth. Beca has never seen Chloe look so… _breakable_ before. So fragile. Yet those words are everything she needed to hear to be sure of what she’s wanted to do for so long. 

One knee slides onto the bed next to Chloe’s hip, and then the other, as she straddles Chloe’s lap. The redhead’s chin tilts back so she can see Beca’s face. Her hands drop from Beca’s at the back of her neck, falling to land on Beca’s thighs. 

That simple touch makes Beca’s breath catch in her throat. “Chloe, I don’t ever want to be like this with someone else.”

Chloe’s fingers dig into Beca’s thighs for the briefest of moments before sliding around her lower back. Her arms tighten and it draws Beca forward, leaving them chest to chest, their faces just inches apart.

Her eyes flick down to Chloe’s lips. They’re parted just slightly, just enough. Waiting to be kissed. It makes Beca’s mind melt, that she isn’t the only one who wants this.

Beca’s chest is bated with nerves, but she’s so close. Her hands slide from the back of Chloe’s neck to her jaw, and the last thing she hears is a sharp inhale. 

All she knows next is that Chloe is slowly kissing her. Their lips softly meet, sliding together and then apart again in a sweet pull. She can feel Chloe’s quiet desperation in the way her hands press harder into the small of her back. Her hands are desperate, but her lips… her lips are gentle. 

She feels Chloe pulling away, and it snaps Beca into action. She doesn’t want this to stop—she doesn’t ever want it to stop. She leans forward, holding her tighter, and it pushes Chloe flat on her back, Beca following her all the way down.

Chloe breathes out a quiet moan and it goes straight between Beca’s thighs. An understanding passes between them in this simple action, a need beyond words. 

Beca presses herself closer to Chloe, nudging her nose into her cheek and letting out the sigh she hasn’t realized she’s been holding. Not just since Chloe walked in the room, but so much longer. It feels as though maybe she’s been holding it for years.

Her lips trailing the whole way, Beca finds Chloe’s mouth urgently. Whatever this feeling is, wherever it came from, Beca is chasing it with a reckless abandon. Her lips are begging Chloe to give it to her over and over again.

Chloe’s hand grips the back of her neck, pulling her impossibly closer. Her touch becomes possessive and consuming. Her lips have only one response: _take it. Take it from me. I’ll give you anything you ask for._

Beca can already feel how slick she’s becoming beneath her leggings. She rolls her hips against Chloe’s, earning her another soft moan before Chloe breaks the kiss. She presses her forehead against Beca’s, her chest rising and falling heavily.

Beca doesn’t know what to do. Part of her is afraid to open her eyes. When she does, everything will be different. She’ll look at Chloe and nothing will ever be the same. 

“Jesus, fuck,” Chloe breathes. “I want you. I want you so bad.” 

Beca eyes snap open at the words spilling from the redhead’s mouth. She’s waited so long for them. She never thought she would hear them in the first place. Chloe pulls Beca’s shirt off, her hands finding the bare skin on Beca’s hips the moment it’s gone. 

Chloe has already unhooked her bra and pulled her leggings down by the time her brain catches up. Searing kisses pepper her chest as Chloe’s mouth makes it way to her breast.

“Say it,” Chloe murmurs against her lips. Her teeth nip at Beca’s chin.

Beca has to remember how to make her lips say anything at all. Right now all her cloudy brain can think about is what Chloe’s mouth is doing. “Fuck, Chloe, I want you,” she chokes out. 

She rolls Beca over and settles between her thighs. Chloe’s lips find hers again and suddenly she’s kissing her like she wants to make Beca forget the name of every person who’s ever touched her before. 

“Baby, say you’re mine,” Chloe breathes against her skin.

Beca’s head falls back as Chloe’s lips find her throat hungrily, her eyes fluttering shut. “I’m yours,” she gasps. “I’m yours, I’m yours.”

***

The early morning sun casts its rays through the window. Beca isn’t sure how long they slept for, but her body feels slack at the release of tension.

Chloe is draped across her. Beca can’t find it in herself to mind. She knows Chloe is awake, though, by the way she breathes. 

Beca’s hand finds Chloe’s where it rests on her chest and slides over it. Chloe glances down at their fingers then back up to Beca. She peers into Beca’s eyes and the room is spinning.

“Amy will be back soon,” Beca murmurs. She isn’t sure how that’ll affect what just happened here. She isn’t sure she wants to know.

Chloe shakes her head, though. “She texted me that she’s staying with what’s-his-face until tomorrow.”

Beca nods, looking up at the ceiling. Out of nowhere, she’s so overwhelmed. She wipes at her eyes, denying the tears that are gathering even the slightest territory on her flushed cheeks. “So, you… you’re-?” Beca says, trying to find the right words to ask Chloe about her sexuality.

“Yeah,” Chloe murmurs, already knowing what Beca’s thinking. 

“But…” 

Beca can’t help but think of all the men she’s seen Chloe with over the years. Until she realizes… It's a short list. 

“It’s kind of a fluid thing,” Chloe explains quietly. “I’ve never really labeled it.”

Beca pauses and thinks about this. She can’t help but look at seven years’ worth of scattered memories through a completely different lens. All the times she almost thought Chloe’s eyes lingered a moment too long, all the times her hand drunkenly found hers. “Me?”

Chloe chuckles this time. “Always,” she murmurs. “For seven years. You remember that day at the activities fair?” 

“Of course I do,” Beca says.

A wistful smile overtook her lips, her eyes so soft that Beca could feel the warmth of the memory where she lay, just watching Chloe relive the small but infinite moment of their meeting. “That was the day it happened.” 

The realization of what Chloe is saying jolts her. All this time, Beca was never able to convince herself that it was what she thought it was. 

Chloe’s finger traces a small circle on her forearm. “How long have you known?”

She just lays there for a moment, soaking in the feeling of the pad of Chloe’s finger on her skin. “For a long time,” Beca murmurs. “But I didn’t start thinking of it as a fact until a year ago. I guess around the time Jesse and I broke things off, I kind of realized there was a reason things never felt right to begin with, you know?”

Chloe’s eyes falter momentarily. “That was a long time ago.” Her voice is filled with something apologetic. “Did you feel like… like you couldn’t tell me?”

Beca shakes her head. “It wasn’t like that. I just… I wasn’t ready yet. I wasn’t ready until really recently.”

Her eyes find Chloe’s again, who’s just watching her silently, an edge of hope in them. Like she's still not completely sure that this conversation will turn out the way she wants. 

The fact that someone could be hoping after her—that Chloe, of all people—could be hoping after her… it jolts her whole system. 

Clearing her throat, gaze still fixed on Chloe’s eyes, Beca says, “Do you ever wish you had a second chance? To do it all over again?”

Chloe purses her lips and tilts her head to the side, really giving it some thought. “No.”

Beca pauses in surprise. If she could have done what they did last night years ago, she would take that chance in a heartbeat. “Why not?”

Chloe turns her head to Beca just slightly. “Because I know I’d do everything exactly the same. The good and the bad. I don’t regret any of it.” Her eyes take on a faraway look. “It’s paid for. Swept away.” 

In a way, she understands what Chloe means. There’s no going back and starting over. There’s only today. It makes her realize that she wouldn’t go back, either. It would mean giving up this moment.

For a moment she can’t talk. Beca can’t help but think of the times over the years that she’s lingered, too. All the little moments that led her right here. “You know what you said about wasting time last night?” Beca asks softly.

“Yeah, I do,” Chloe answers.

Beca swallows the lump in her throat. “I don’t want to do it anymore,” she chokes out.

As unable as she is to speak, she wants Chloe to kiss her again so badly. It doesn’t matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her shoulder. Her skin is hollow without it. 

Taking Chloe’s hand, her heart lodged in her throat, she drags Chloe back to her. She does it just how she’d imagined it in a hundred different dreams, on a thousand different nights. Her eyes close only a second before their lips meet.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on the first day of pride month as a way to process some of the things in my own head and heart with zero intentions of posting it, but my friend swayed me to want to put this out there. thanks so much for reading and sharing in this crazy experience of being ourselves. happy pride month to everyone! whether you're out or not, your journey is beautiful to me


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